Cast Out
by Howling1
Summary: Sue Sylvester doesn't like sneaky gays. Her campaign to "out" various students at McKinley High has disastrous consequences, especially for Mike Chang.


"And so, Ohio, Sue Sylvester would like to offer you a promise. Given that I've gone on at length about these 'sneaky gays' in the past and nobody else has offered a solution that is anything close to reasonable, I will take care of the problem for myself. You have my word that starting tomorrow, everybody in Lima who may or may not possibly be in the closet will be dragged out of it kicking and screaming. Because if there's one thing I care about, it's giving back. And that's how Sue C's it."

Kurt switched the Tivo off with a click of his remote and turned to the four others gathered in his bedroom. "What we have here is something close to a disaster," he deadpanned.

"Oh, come on, Kurt, it's not that bad," Mercedes shrugged, crossing her legs. "And besides, what could she really do?"

The other four looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "You don't know Sue Sylvester like we do," Quinn replied, patting her hand.

"Um, _hello_, girlfriend. Did you forget that I was on the squad, same as you?"

"Yeah, for all of five minutes," Santana snapped back, tossing her ponytail. "Maybe you didn't notice, but it's really, really hard to deny Sue anything that she wants."

"She _can_ always get what she wants," Brittany added, batting at Santana's ponytail as well; Kurt was vaguely reminded of a kitten with its toy. "We sang about it at Sectionals but that totally doesn't apply to her."

"Although I don't get why you're so worried, Kurt," Santana shrugged. "I mean, you're more out than a rainbow flag in San Francisco. What's she gonna do to you?"

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about, necessarily," Kurt said. "It's everyone else who isn't as open about it. I mean, Mercedes, imagine if you were gay and trying to keep it hidden; would you want Sue Sylvester breathing down your neck all day?"

"Nah, but I've always had a thing for dicks, myself, so it's kinda hard to contemplate," Mercedes conceded. Quinn gave her a playful shove and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"But you get what I'm saying. And what about you, Brittany and Santana? Does Sue know about you guys?"

"Well, they're not exactly subtle about it," Quinn piped up.

"Can it, preggo," Santana replied. "Me and Brit here can take care of ourselves." She stole a glance over at Brittany, who had now begun trying to eat her hair. "Well," Santana amended, "I can take care of us, at any rate."

"Still," Kurt said. "And with all of the bullying around here… I wouldn't wish this on anybody." He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna try and talk to her tomorrow."

He was met with solemn stares from the others.

"Good luck," Quinn finally said, and Kurt didn't have to be psychic to know what everyone else was thinking: _You're going to need it._

_

* * *

_

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you're saying, Ladyface."

Kurt gulped and took another deep breath. "Sue, I'm just trying to talk to you about — I mean, as someone who's had experience with these things—"

"Let's recap here," Sue said, leaning over Kurt in a very, very intimidating manner, and Kurt shrank further back into his chair. "And not in a useless, quick way like so many vapid TV shows tend to do, but in a thorough, practical manner. I made a _promise_ to the people of Ohio. And Sue Sylvester keeps her promises."

"It's not fair to the people you're targeting," Kurt replied, hating how small his voice was.

"Really. And how would you know about the people I've targeted, Barbara?"

Kurt gulped again. He could see what this was: Sue was baiting him. Trying to get him to admit his suspicions so that she could go after the people he named. Kurt, though scared out of his wits, was not about to fall for that.

"I… I don't," he replied. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Miss Sylvester."

"You should be," Sue said, sitting back down at her desk. "Now get out of my sight before I use your face as a scrub brush for our latest trophy. It's getting dusty, and that, quite frankly, is unacceptable."

Kurt hightailed it out of there before she'd finished the last word, slamming the door shut behind him.

Well. He'd tried.

* * *

Later that day, as Kurt tried to force himself into eating something during lunch, the loudspeaker above them crackled to life.

"_Attention, McKinley High and all of its social deviants! At this time every day from now until Operation Reveal is completed, Sue Sylvester will be reading a list of all of the confirmed rainbow bearers slithering their way through the halls. As of now, the list stands thusly: Kurt Hummel, our newly appointed and only forty-three percent adequate lead cheerleader."_

A pause, then a gruff concession_. "That is all."_

_

* * *

_

The thing was, other than Brittany and Santana, Kurt really didn't know anyone else who might have been in the closet. He had his _suspicions_, just like everybody, but in a cruel twist of fate, his gaydar was absolutely terrible. So it wasn't like he could go up to people who may or may not possibly be gay/bi and try to warn them.

Huh. But that was an idea. Maybe he could talk to Quinn; her gaydar was excellent.

Nevertheless, to say it was a surprise to him when he saw Mike Chang fleeing down the hall, only to then witness Sue Sylvester stalking after him with the fury and intimidation of a thousand flames, would be a slight understatement.

"You can run, but you can't hide, Chang!" she shouted after him. "I instructed Michael Johnson back in his heyday!"

Kurt privately wondered to himself if that was true, but he'd learned not to question anything Sue said out loud.

He didn't see Mike again until just before Glee practice, where he found the other boy slumped, exhausted, in his seat. He was the only other one in the room, at the moment. Kurt gingerly poked him in the arm to see if he was awake.

"Ow, hey!"

"Sorry. You looked rather … comatose."

"I've been running from Sue all day," Mike confessed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Cheerios practice is the only reason I'm not hidden in a closet somewhere right now."

From the awkward silence that followed, Kurt knew he wasn't the only one who had caught the irony in that statement.

"Do you have any idea why she's chasing you?" Kurt asked, hoping that the answer was 'no.'

Mike bit his lip. "I can guess. I saw Sue's Corner last night."

He looked away from Kurt, and the soprano gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, "don't worry about her."

"Believe me, if that were an option, I'd take it," Mike said, bringing a hand up and rubbing his eyes. "I just … this isn't cool, Kurt. I keep it under wraps for a reason."

"So it's true, then?" Kurt asked, unable to help himself.

Mike fixed Kurt with a long, steady gaze, before looking away again. "Yeah. Yeah … it is."

He sniffed, eyes brimming. "Dammit," Mike said, wiping them again.

"Mike, you should never be ashamed of who you are," Kurt said gently. "It took me a long time to realize that, and if Mercedes hadn't come along I might still be living a lie. At least," he added, "trying to be. Nobody seemed too shocked when I came out, after all."

Mike gave a watery smile. "That's true. But that's the thing, Kurt. I just … I saw what you went through, every day. And I realized … I'm not as strong as you."

Kurt made a noise of protest, but Mike shook his head. "I'm not. I couldn't live with the bullying, day in and day out. Getting tossed in the dumpster, getting slushies in the face, all of that stuff… I mean, I'm just barely squeaking by as it is, being on Glee and everything. I couldn't … I won't be able to handle people hating me because I'm different." His voice had lowered to a near-whisper. "I don't want my family to be ashamed of me."

Kurt inhaled sharply, and Mike looked away again. "They're really … they don't like people like us, Kurt. They actually flew _out to California_ a couple years ago when that whole Prop 8 fiasco was going on, just so they could hand out flyers telling people to vote yes. It's … it's bad, it's really bad."

"Mike—" Kurt started, but at that moment the door to the choir room flew back open and Will, Rachel and Finn walked in; Rachel was talking animatedly about the travesty that was taking place and Finn and Will were both doing their best to calm her down.

"Later," Mike mouthed, and Kurt abandoned the issue and reluctantly turned to look at the three others.

"…dads are threatening to sue her," Rachel was saying, looking genuinely upset. "What right does she have to do this? She's become the Perez Hilton of the high school world!"

At Will's confused look, Rachel amended, "She's trying to force people out of the closet when it's not her place to do so. Or, indeed, _anyone_'s place."

"Rachel, I'm sorry you feel this way—" Will started, but Rachel cut him off.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want to know what you are going to _do_ to fix this!"

By this time the rest of the club had spilled into the room and were now all watching the exchange with rapt attention. Kurt, looking around at all of them, noticed that Brittany and Santana were sitting a lot closer together than they usually would: They were worried.

"Guys," Will began, looking at them, "I know this is an issue that's really close to your hearts, but believe me, I'm doing everything I can. I've already talked to Figgins."

"And what did he say?" Quinn asked from her place beside Kurt.

Will rubbed his neck. "He … didn't seem very responsive. I can't imagine why."

* * *

"Go ahead and try to stop me. And when you do, I'll announce to the entire faculty the details of your one-night stand with your roommate in graduate school," Sue said, hands on Figgins' desk as she leaned down to look him right in the eye. "I dare you to test if I'm being serious."

* * *

"Anyway, guys, I really think—" Will began, but he was interrupted by the crackle of the loudspeaker.

"_Attention, heathens!_"

Kurt's gaze snapped up to the intercom. _Oh, no._

"_Sue Sylvester is proud to announce that the list of "Out, If Not Proud" students has three new members! Firstly, thanks to some very convincing evidence by the local peeping tom, Jacob Ben Isreal, we have: Santana Lopez and Brittany!"_

The club all turned to glance at the two girls in question.

"I know… it's surprising," admitted Brittany.

"_And, finally_—" (_No, no, please, no!_ Kurt's inner mantra chanted,) "_Ladies and Gentlemen, your seven-time cheerleading coach is proud to announce that Mike Chang is no longer a member of the Sneaky Gays! He shall take his rightful place out of the closet alongside such confusing members of society as Adam Lambert and Neil Patrick Harris, whose appeal I will never understand but someday hope to harness and bottle to sell as an aphrodisiac. Both William Schuester and that atrocious combination of dead grass clippings that he calls _hair_ could use some of it."_

A pause. "_An amendment: William Schuester is, at present, _not_ a confirmed member of this list… yet. It would certainly explain a lot of things._"

Click.

By now the whole club had turned to look at Mike. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but Mike grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room without looking back.

* * *

Will had immediately dismissed rehearsal and sent everybody home. Kurt had hoped he was going to "lay a verbal smackdown" (Mercedes' words, not his) on Sue, but he had seen Will get into his car and drive off, looking lost in thought. Kurt might have spared some energy to be angry with him if he hadn't been so _worried_.

Brittany and Santana, he knew, could definitely look after themselves. Santana's parents had known about the two of them for a while, and while nobody had ever met (or, indeed, ever heard anything about) Brittany's parents, he knew that they wouldn't be a problem either.

("They don't care who I fall in love with as long as it's not another sycamore tree like that one time," had been Brittany's exact words, but the point still stood.)

While Kurt didn't know anything about Mike's home life, other than the tiny tidbit of information he'd gleaned that afternoon, he knew that this day could not possibly end well for Mike. How could it? He'd opened up to Kurt for barely a minute and then had had it thrown back in his face not thirty seconds later. Had Sue wiretapped the choir room? Kurt wouldn't put it past her.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of Lady Gaga's "Telephone" blaring from his cell. He dove to his bed to pick it up; a glance at the Caller ID revealed an unfamiliar number. He answered with a clipped, "Hello?"

"Kurt?"

_Oh no._ "Mike?"

"Yeah, hi. I um … I got your number from Sam. I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call."

"Oh. It's fine. Is … is everything ok?"

A pause. "She called my parents, Kurt."

Kurt felt like his insides had turned to ice. "What?"

"Yeah. She said something about 'covering all the bases' or whatever. So … so now they know."

"…How'd they take it?"

Silence.

"Mike?"

"Kurt, I'm locked out of the house."

Oh, god.

Kurt didn't respond for a moment, but his breathing hitched, and from the sounds coming from his phone, he could tell Mike was crying. "I just … I don't know where… Sam isn't out to his parents and Matt's mom is like my mom. She wouldn't want to… You know she actually kept us from spending too much time together when we were kids because she didn't want Matt to turn out gay? Not that he would, I mean, he's my best friend and I've heard more details about girls that I've ever wanted to from him—"

Kurt could tell Mike was rambling, but he didn't interrupt, just let him keep talking. If it helped, he wouldn't stop him. "And I don't... it just wouldn't… wouldn't work. Puck's got no room and I can't …"

He trailed off, and Kurt spoke up, softly. "Mike, you can stay with us."

Mike inhaled shakily. "You sure?"

He was already up on his feet, looking through the things on his dresser for his keys. "Of course I'm sure. Now tell me your address so I can come pick you up."

* * *

"But how did she even know in the first place?" Mercedes asked.

"Santana says she found tracer software on her computer; it looks like Sue hacked into it," Quinn responded, shifting the phone to her other ear as she washed the dishes. "And she asked Brittany when she was on the way to Glee practice and Brittany flat-out told her."

"What, she said, 'yes, Miss Sylvester, I am a hardcore lesbian'?"

"Actually, she said," and here Quinn put on her best, breathy Brittany voice, " 'I like girls. And boobs. I really like boobs. I kiss guys a lot but sometimes when I do I pretend they're girls. Or Santana. I like to pretend they're Santana.'" Quinn picked up another dish. "I suppose that was all the confirmation Sylvester needed."

"What are we gonna _do,_ Quinn? Mike's at Kurt's place now. He's broken-hearted."

Quinn almost dropped the plate she was washing. "Wait, what?"

"You didn't hear? Mike got kicked out of his own house."

"She told his parents?"

"She told _every_body. You know Sue. She does something, she does it _hard._"

"I believe the word you're looking for is _thorough_," Quinn said. "That other way sounded kinda … wrong."

Mercedes huffed. "Whatever, girlfriend, you knew what I meant."

* * *

"Thanks again for doing this," Mike said quietly, staring into his coffee mug and not looking at any of them. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course, honey," Carole said, reaching out to grasp his hand. "You need anything else, you just ask."

Beside her, Burt appeared livid. Kurt, noticing, reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Dad…"

"No, you know what? Look. I'm sorry, but I can't —" Burt stood up and exhaled deeply, yanking his hat off and running his hand over his head in frustration. "This should not be happening."

"Yeah, well…" Finn muttered, shuffling awkwardly in his seat. "I don't think it should be either."

"She has no right. _No right_," Burt repeated, sitting back down. "And neither do his parents." He locked eyes with Mike and pointed at him, gaze steely. "You listen to me, Chang. You have the right to love whomever you want. And it's your parents' _duty_ to love you, no matter who that person is. Don't let anybody tell you different, ever."

Mike's voice was very meek when he replied, "Yes, sir."

"Dad, _enough_," Kurt said sharply. "I think it's about time we all went to bed."

"I would agree with that," Carole said softly, patting Burt's arm. "Mike, you're okay with staying in Finn's room? You could sleep there and Finn can take the couch…"

"No, no, the couch is fine, thank you," Mike said hurriedly. "I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"Nonsense, I insist," Carole said.

"Really, it's fine," Mike said, biting his lip. "I wouldn't want to force Finn out of his way. I'll stay on the couch."

"All right, if that's what you really want," Carole acknowledged, standing. "But like we said, if there's anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," Mike said quietly, also standing. "I think I'll head there now, if that's ok."

"Of course." Carole stepped forward, and in an instant she had engulfed Mike in a hug. Mike slowly brought up his arms and hugged her back, breathing deeply as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You're gonna be ok."

Mike squeezed his eyes shut tight and didn't reply.

* * *

It was 3 AM and Kurt was about 85 percent asleep as he stumbled up to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was so out of it that he had completely forgotten about the events of that night, until he heard muffled sobbing coming from the living room.

Cautiously, Kurt poked his head through the doorway. Mike was shaking where he lay on the couch, his back to Kurt as he cried. Wordlessly, Kurt walked up to the other boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mike started, turning over.

Kurt smiled slightly at him. "Hi."

Mike didn't look at him. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he mumbled.

"You didn't." Kurt cautiously sat down on the couch and Mike shuffled his legs to make room for him.

"Do you need me to stay?" he asked, quietly.

Mike finally turned to look at him, eyes shining. "That'd be … that'd be nice."

"Okay then." Kurt lay down next to him on the couch and Mike shifted again, drawing an arm to come up around Kurt as Kurt snuggled into Mike's chest. Their legs intertwined slightly, but neither had the heart to pull away as, slowly, their breathing steadied.

"Carole's right, you know," Kurt mumbled sleepily from Mike's chest.

"Hmmm?"

"It's going to be ok."

Mike didn't look at him. "How can you be sure?"

When he finally did risk a glance, Kurt was looking up at him. There was a hint of something Mike didn't recognize in his eyes — they seemed to gleam at him through the darkness. "I'm not. But if a flamboyant, queeny bitch can somehow score the winning goal to a football game, come out to his redneck dad the same night, and still be alive to tell you all this, then… well, I guess anything's possible in this town."

Mike cracked a smile, his first that night, and nodded. "I suppose it is."

Slowly, the two of them drifted off to sleep, lost in their thoughts as they listened to each other's breathing.

* * *

Mike and Finn rode with Kurt in his Navigator to school the next morning, and Mike let his eyes roam over the sleek metal of the vehicle as they got out in the parking lot.

"Dude, you have a seriously nice car," Mike said as they walked towards the school.

Finn laughed. "I keep trying to get him to let me drive, but he always says no."

"Damn right I do," Kurt sniffed. "I've heard from Carole about the 'mailman' story—"

He was abruptly cut off as one of the jocks, Karofsky, appeared out of nowhere and punched Mike straight in the face. Mike swore and falls backward, and Kurt caught him, grabbing one of his hands and putting Mike's arm across his shoulders to steady him.

"What the _fuck_, Karofsky?" Finn shouted, shoving him.

Karofsky shoved him right back. "What, hangin' out with one homo ain't good enough for you now, Hudson? Gotta get a little threeway action goin', huh?"

"I thought I told you guys to lay off! Mike hasn't done anything wrong!"

Karofsky laughed, long and loud and ugly. "Hasn't done anything wrong, huh? He tricked everyone on the damn team so that he could see us naked. We _showered_ with that dude."

"Why would he want to look at any of you and your hideous, ugly selves in the locker room?" Kurt shouts at him, too incensed to think logically. "There's this thing called _tact_, Karofsky. Mike here has it in droves. You? Not so much."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Hummel. Give 'em the dumpster, you guys."

Unnoticed until then by any of them, Mike, Finn and Kurt suddenly found themselves surrounded by jocks, who slowly and steadily started backing them towards the dumpster in the parking lot. Kurt, eyes darting among them for some kind of escape, suddenly realized —

"Puck?" Finn shouted, pushing forward toward his friend. "Oh, _hell_ no."

Puck snickered. "You've been spending too much time with Hummel, Hudson. 'Oh hell no'? That's, like, the gayest thing you've ever said."

"Why are you back with these _losers?_" Finn shouted, gesturing to the crowd around them. "You haven't done the dumpster crap in forever, and now all of a sudden Mike gets special attention?"

"Dude, Karofsky's right, in a way," Puck shrugged. "At least Hummel never kept himself on the down low. _And_ he didn't shower with us."

"So the fact that Mike _did_ somehow makes it worse?" Kurt snapped from his place beside Mike. "Think about it, Puck. I know that's hard for you, but try. If Mike _hadn't_ showered with you, what would you have done?"

Puck shuffled his feet and didn't look at Kurt.

"Exactly. You would've picked up on it. You'd've called him gay and made fun of him, just like you are now. You want to know why he made all of you think he was straight? It's because he saw how you treated _me_."

"Kurt, calm down," Mike murmured from beside him.

"No, I will not calm down! People like all of you are the reason that Mike's so unhappy with himself! Are you idiots treating Brittany and Santana the same way? They were outed yesterday too, same as Mike."

"Dude, why would we toss _lesbians_ in the dumpster?" Azimio piped up from beside Karofsky, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kurt shook his head. "Your double standards disgust me."

"Well said, Kurt," came a new voice.

The crowd of jocks parted slowly as Mr. Schuester came striding into view, idly writing on a notepad, tearing off slips and handing them to each of the jocks. "Detention, detention, detention, detention, detention."

"Dude, what—" Karofsky started, before Mr. Schuester slapped him in the chest with a slip of paper.

"_Detention_."

Will turned around and addressed the crowd of jocks. "Now that I've handed one out to everyone here, I'd suggest you all leave. Before I escalate to suspensions."

The jocks just gaped at him, too stunned to react.

"_LEAVE!_" Mr. Schuester barked, and they immediately fled.

Kurt blinked. "Um. Hi, Mr. Schue."

Will turned to Kurt. "There are several things that need addressing here. But first. Kurt, can you forgive me?"

Kurt blinked again. "Uh. What? Why?"

Mr. Schuester laughed, humorlessly. "Why? Because I walked past you and those jocks for _months_ and I didn't realize what was going on until I saw Mike with you today." He sighed. "I was oblivious, and blind, and there's no excuse for that. So … I'm sorry."

Kurt nodded. "True. All right, well … apology accepted, Mr. Schue. Thank you."

Will nodded as well. "Second. Mike, I need you to tell me who punched you so I can talk to Figgins about it. Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"I'll be fine," Mike muttered, wiping at the blood under his nose.

"It was Karofsky," Finn responded immediately. "He was the one who hit him, Mr. Schue."

Will nodded again. "All right. I'll tell Figgins that. In the meantime, you boys should get to class."

Finn, Mike and Kurt hastily set about gathering their things as Mr. Schuester stepped towards Puck, the only jock who had remained. He had watched this entire exchange silently, with his detention slip clutched in one hand. Mr. Schuester looked him up and down, and then frowned.

"I expected better from you, Puck," he said softly.

Puck turned around and shuffled away without a word. Mr. Schuester sighed again. "Good luck in class today, guys," he said to the other three, as they too headed toward the school.

* * *

Four slushies, two verbal sparring matches, and countless trips and punches later, Mike determined that he had _not_, in fact, had good luck that day as he rounded the corner toward the choir room. Kurt hurried to catch up with him.

"Mike—" he started, but just then the loudspeaker crackled to life once again, and Kurt sighed. Sue had been giving updates to the list throughout the day; where once there were four people, the list now stood at ten and still growing.

"_Hello again, hellraisers,_" Sue began. "_And I mean that in the derogatory way, not the hard-rock-preppie-handbangers way. Your list of No Longer Sneaky Gays has two new additions. To Dave Karofsky and his supposedly heterosexual life partner, Azimio, I know what you two were doing in the boys' bathroom during lunch. I always say that bullying is the last refuge for the weak; perhaps the reason I always say it is that I keep getting proven right._"

The loudspeaker shut off with a click, but Mike and Kurt kept staring at it.

"Oh … my god," Kurt mumbled.

"Well," Mike said, after a minute, "maybe this will put an end to all that dumpster crap you've had to deal with."

Kurt smiled, but Mike didn't, and the other boy pushed past the soprano into the choir room with a sigh.

"Well," Kurt acknowledged as he followed Mike, "at least _some_ good came out of this whole list fiasco, right?"

"Yeah, well, pardon me if I can't exactly find the joy in this situation," Mike said as he sat down and threw his backpack aside with a huff; the two of them were, again, the first to arrive.

"Mike…" Kurt started, softly.

"Matt's been avoiding me," Mike muttered, crossing his arms and looking down. "Every time he saw me today he tore down the hall in the opposite direction. I think…" he swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

"Did he … did he know, before yesterday?" Kurt asked.

Mike scuffed his foot against the floor and bit his lip. "Well… no."

Kurt went over to Mike and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You just have to give him time," he said gently. "It's a lot to take in."

"He's my best friend, Kurt," Mike whispered, rubbing his shoulder. "And what if … oh God, what if he thinks I have a crush on him or something? Or what if—"

"Hey," Kurt said, brushing his hand against Mike's jaw to turn the other boy to face him, "there's no use dwelling on the hypotheticals."

Mike was again spared from saying more by the timely arrival of the rest of the club. Unlike yesterday, when they had all filed in, chatting animatedly, all of them were silent, the mood solemn. Kurt only noticed after the last to arrive — Matt — came through the doorway that Puck was not with them.

Matt went straight to his seat and didn't look at anybody, not even acknowledging the hopeful glance that Mike threw his way. Mike turned back to face the front of the room, stung, and Kurt rubbed his shoulder.

Presently, Mr. Schuester arrived; he looked very tired. "Well, um. Hi, guys."

There was a chorus of mumbled "Hi"s and "'Sup"s.

"Okay, first order of business," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands together; Kurt could see that he was trying to get back his old inspirational-speech energy. "I noticed, um. Well, that Kurt and Mike were getting some … unwanted attention in the parking lot this morning. Brittany, Santana, has the same thing happened to you at all today?"

Brittany and Santana glanced at each other, then back at Mr. Schue. "Nope," Santana shrugged.

"I didn't notice anything," Brittany added.

Kurt shook his head, thinking back to their conversation with the jocks that morning. _Double standards…_

"Okay, well. Just… let me know if that does happen. Second order of business. Does anybody know where Puck is?"

"Who cares?" Finn muttered irritably from the front row.

"Finn…"

"No, you know what? I'm done with that loser," Finn said, standing up. "If he's not gonna make an effort to be friends with my friends, then I'm not gonna be his friend."

"You know," Santana said thoughtfully, a devilish look in her eye, "every time Karofsky and Azimio started up on their whole spiel, he was always the first to jump in with them. Maybe he's hiding something?"

"Puck is _not_ gay," Quinn said firmly from beside her.

Santana looked at her scornfully. "So? He could be bi, like me."

"Which makes it confusing that she's on the list of Sneaky Gays," Brittany said offhandedly.

"Guess Sue didn't bother to make the distinction," Artie muttered.

"I don't need anybody making distinctions about me," came a voice, and the club turned to the doorway: Puck was there, glowering at all of them, hands shoved firmly in his pockets. "I am firmly into pussy and pussy only."

He walked slowly into the room, toward Mike and Kurt; Kurt tensed up on instinct and Mike just stared up at him, waiting.

"Sorry, dudes," Puck finally muttered, before slinking over to his seat.

Mr. Schuester looked relieved. "Right. Okay, well, that's taken care of. What about you, Mike, have you had any problems since this morning?"

Mike didn't respond, so Kurt spoke up instead. "Of course he has, Mr. Schue. Really, we appreciated the whole thing where you tossed detentions out like candy, we really did. But you didn't think that'd make it _stop_, did you?"

"Not to mention everything else that Mike has had to deal with," Mercedes said, and Kurt immediately turned to glare at her.

"Mercedes, _shush_," he warned.

"Wait, what?" Mr. Schuester said, glancing back and forth between them. "What do you mean, everything else? Mike, what's going on?"

Mike still didn't speak; he looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear on the spot.

"Mr. Schue, his parents kicked him out," Quinn said softly.

Kurt could _see_ Mr. Schuester visibly deflate in front of him. Silence descended on the choir room for a moment as the various glee clubbers glanced back and forth between each other. Kurt tensed, waiting for someone to say something, and when he looked back at Mr. Schue, a steely glint was in his eyes.

"Excuse me for a moment," the teacher said, and walked out of the choir room without looking back.

* * *

A knock came on Sue Sylvester's office door. Several of them, in fact. Sue swung the door open and was met with the glaring face of Mr. Schuester.

"Will. I'd like to say it's good to see your smiling face in my office again, but unfortunately for you I happen to be brutally honest in addition to ruthlessly cunning."

"We need to talk, Sue," Will said, voice deadly quiet as he stepped inside.

"Ah, gabbing about the latest issues of _Vogue_ and how best to do each other's hairstyles," Sue said as she sat back at her desk, Will slowly sitting down across from her. "Unfortunately, nothing could be used to salvage that dead mammal on top of your head, except perhaps CPR, depending on how long ago you caught—"

Sue was unexpectedly cut off as Will slammed a fist on her desk. "Shut _up_, Sue!" he roared.

Sue was livid. "Excuse me, William? No one cuts off Sue Sylvester."

"Yeah, well, no one messes with my students. Do you have _any_ idea of the damage you've caused around here?"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's less than nothing when compared to the damage that would have been caused if those gays had been allowed to remain in their sheltered closets. There's something you have to learn about me, William. _I don't like secrets._"

"Then there's something _you_ have to learn about the ones you've outed, Sue. People have been going after Mike Chang all day, according to the kids, and that's not even the worst part."

Sue scoffed. "Oh, please, William, I hardly think—"

"_Mike Chang's parents kicked him out of the house, Sue_," Will shouted, face inches from Sue's own. "Are you happy now? In one night you separated an innocent kid from his family. Do you have any idea what that's like? Because I don't. I can't imagine my parents hating me because I'm different. And now Mike has to deal with that, and no kid should ever have to go through what you just put him through."

Will was standing up, backing away from Sue's desk; Sue, for once, appeared speechless. "So there you have it, Sue. That's what your 'sneaky gays' campaign has wrought. I don't know what you were trying to accomplish with it, but if it was tearing apart the lives of McKinley High's students, I'd say you've definitely succeeded. Mike Chang has practically no one to turn to because he's become an outcast who everybody harasses. You know, for someone who says she cares so much about the kids — I can't see anything in this that was for their benefit."

Will turned and stormed out of Sue's office, slamming the door shut behind him. Sue stared at it for a long time after he left.

* * *

After Will had come back and again dismissed rehearsal without another word, Mike, Finn and Kurt had made the long drive home in silence. The atmosphere in the Hummel-Hudson household was tense that night as Carole set about making dinner for everyone and Mike, Kurt and Finn tried their best to concentrate on homework.

Their failed attempt at conjugating the latest Spanish vocabulary words was interrupted when Mike's cell phone went off. Mike scooped it out of his bag and froze when he saw the caller ID.

_Mom_

Finn and Kurt glanced at each other before looking back to him.

"Mike, please answer it," Kurt said quietly.

Mike took a deep breath, nodded, and flipped the phone open.

"…Hello?"

Mike pushed his chair back as he stood up, leaving the room. Finn looked like he wanted to follow him to hear what was going on, but sat back in his chair at a pointed look from Kurt.

Mike was gone for a long time; when he got back, Finn and Kurt had abandoned all pretense at attempting homework entirely, instead just waiting to hear what had happened.

"So…?" Finn said, hopefully, after a pause.

Mike clutched his phone tight. "They want me to move back in."

Kurt immediately bounced out of his seat and engulfed Mike in a hug. "Mike, that's _wonderful!_" he laughed. "I'm so glad."

Slowly, Mike's arms came up to wrap around Kurt as well, and he smiled reluctantly. "Yeah … yeah, me too."

"Dude, that's awesome," Finn said, standing up as well and clapping Mike on the shoulder. "Did they say what made them wise up?"

"Well, actually…"

* * *

"Mike Chang's a good kid," Sue said after sipping (and then spitting out) some of the tea that Mrs. Chang had offered her. "I don't see him around much, but I have seen him working with the football team and performing in glee club. Now I may not appreciate it when people hide parts of themselves away, but at least you've helped me understand why he did it."

Sue set her cup down and looked directly at Mike's parents. "Your son is a good person. He's not immoral; he's not going down the Path to Hell or whatever it is you people make up to justify your actions. But in this current day and age, if someone hates someone else for the simple act of _falling in love_ — an act that can't be helped — well, to be quite frank, that person is a moron."

Sue stood, turning her back on the Changs. "I've seen firsthand what happens when a person is bullied for something they can't control. The best thing for them is _family_. You should be protecting and helping Mike, not providing more harassment."

Sue turned back to face them on her way out the door. "And _that's_ how Sue C's it."

* * *

Kurt blinked. "Well, that's … rather surprising."

"Don't I know it," Mike said as he slung his pack over his shoulder. "I guess … I guess I'll be heading out, then. They're on their way to pick me up now."

"Good luck," Finn said quietly, as they made their way to the door.

Mike paused on his way out the door, turned, and smiled. "Finn… Kurt… thank you."

Kurt smiled as well. "Anytime, Mike."

Behind Mike, a car pulled in front of the Hummels' house, and Mike looked out to it, back to Kurt and Finn one last time, then slowly turned away and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Glee Club the next day was a decidedly happier affair than it'd been all week. Without the constant threat of Sue's intermittent intercom announcements looming over them, everyone was talking amongst themselves animatedly, gossiping and laughing.

"I hear tell the dumpster shenanigans have been called off by the jocks entirely," Artie remarked lightly to Tina, who was sitting on his lap.

"Because of Mr. Schue's sudden bad-ass-ness, or because of Karofsky and Azimio's _torrid love affair_?" Tina asked, smirking.

"Actually, because Sue threatened bodily harm to anybody who dared to pick on people because of who they sleep with."

"No kidding? Well, good for her," Mercedes said, passing by them on her way to Quinn. "About time _some_body said somethin'."

"Speaking of," said Quinn, turning to Puck, "thanks for showing up yesterday."

Puck grunted. "Well, after Mr. Schuester slapped me with a detention, I got to thinkin'."

"_You?_ Really? I'm shocked," Quinn said, eyes sparkling.

Puck elbowed her. "Shut up, it happens. Anyway, his whole wounded-puppy thing he had goin' on made me realize — I thought I was better than those punks. And I totally am. I mean, not 'cause they're secretly gay or anything, but 'cause, well, they're punks. And I gotta be the bigger man if I wanna prove that. So I'm totally down with it if Mike wants to go to bat for the other team. And hey, about that—"

"Any puns about pitchers or catchers and I will personally sic Rachel and her entire collection of pamphlets on you," Mercedes threatened.

Quinn smirked. "Puck, you're getting predictable."

"I'm not…" Puck trailed off, because he'd just spotted Brittany and Santana on the other side of the room. More precisely, Brittany and Santana were _totally making out_. Anything else Puck was about to say flew completely out of his mind as he watched them going at it.

Mercedes sighed. "Typical boy."

Kurt and Finn, meanwhile, were watching too, though admittedly with less enthusiasm. "Gross," Kurt remarked offhandedly, turning back to his handheld mirror and powdering his face.

"I guess now that Sue outed them, they don't have to hide it anymore," Finn said, not taking his eyes off of the pair.

"They never did really hide it," Mike acknowledged from beside Kurt. "But if they want to be a lot more open about it, I won't stop them. Even if it's not really something I want to see every day..."

Kurt glanced over at him, putting his compact mirror away. "That reminds me. Mike, did you get a chance to talk to…"

He wasn't able to finish, because at that moment, Rachel bounded up to the front of the room and clapped her hands. "Attention, everyone!"

With some muttering, the club turned to face her.

"Given that Mr. Schuester is late yet again, I propose we start on our own. Now, I have a few song suggestions for this week, but if anyone else would like to—"

"I've got one," came an unfamiliar voice.

Matt hopped down from the top of the risers and came to stand beside Rachel, who looked thoroughly taken aback. "Is that alright?" he asked.

"Oh. Um, yes, that's perfectly fine," Rachel said. "Um, feel free to begin at any time."

She went and sat beside Finn, and the club waited as Matt bent down to whisper in Brad's ear. When he straightened up again, he addressed them all. "This is about … well. It'll become pretty obvious in a minute."

Matt pulled up a stool, sat on it, and started tapping out a beat with his foot on the floor. Brad began playing the peppy, upbeat opening notes of a song that was instantly very familiar to all of them.

"_You've got a friend in me_," Matt began, gazing at Mike, who looked stunned. "_You've got a friend in me…_"

Matt took a deep breath and kept going. "_When the road looks rough ahead, and you're miles, and miles, from your nice warm bed … just remember what your old pal said: Boy, you've got a friend in me._"

By now the rest of the club, except for Mike, had joined him in backing vocals (it was kind of their thing, after all). "_You've got a friend in me; you've got a friend in me._"

"_You've got a friend in me. You've got troubles, well, I've got 'em too. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. We stick together and we see it through; you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me."_

As the club began backing him with "_Oooh_"s, Matt stood up off the stool and headed toward Mike, still singing. "_Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am, bigger and stronger too, maybe. But none of them will ever love you the way I do: it's me and you."_

He extended a hand, and Mike took it, standing, gazing at Matt in wonderment. "_And as the years go by, boy, our friendship will never die. You're gonna see, it's our destiny, yeah, you've got a friend in me._"

"_Yes you do,"_ the club chorused.

"_You've got a friend in me._"

"_Yes, it's true._"

"_You've got a friend in me!_"

Mike joined Matt on the last line, their voices rising to hold out the final note, long and loud and beautiful, as the song ended. The club cheered as Matt and Mike embraced, hugging each other tightly.

"Sorry I was such a dick," Matt mumbled into Mike's ear.

Mike laughed quietly. "Well, it was a lot to adjust to."

They separated, Matt's hands on Mike's shoulders. "We cool, bro?"

Mike offered him a fist bump. "We cool."

The sound of clapping reached their ears, and Mr. Schuester strode into view, beaming. "That was amazing, you guys! Matt, I'd say we _definitely_ have a new song for Sectionals. I never knew you had such a stage presence!"

"I don't think any of us did," Kurt said truthfully, and the club laughed.

"Well in that case, I say it's time we stop letting you only sing backup," Mr. Schuester said, rubbing his neck. "And I'll take the blame for that. What do you say, guys, should this be on the set list?"

The club's deafening cheers in return were all the answer he needed.

Mr. Schuester grinned. "All right then. From the top!"

* * *

"You do realize that I almost took you off the Cheerios because of the insanity that woman caused," Burt said as Kurt grabbed the remote from him to turn up the volume; Sue's Corner was about to come on. "It's a good thing she redeemed herself before I could get to her. Hummels don't mess around."

"Sssh, it's starting," Kurt said, eyes intent on the TV, and Burt rolled his eyes.

"And so, Ohio, I would like to offer you my thoughts on a topic of controversy within the Sue Sylvester world: _Secrets_. Now, you may be thinking, 'such a childish term could never have such a place in Sue Sylvester's immense vocabulary', and you'd probably be right. But, Ohio, what you fail to understand is that _secrets_ are a key part of being a winner, just like grass smoothie diets and merciless obliteration of your opponents.

"Sure, it's easy to drag those secrets out of people whether they want you to or not. But as Sue Sylvester herself has learned over the past few days, there is a time and a place for those secrets, just as there is a time and a place to play Miley Cyrus music — that time and place, by the way, would be when you wish to render your enemies deaf and dumb from sheer _awful_. The point is, Ohio, I've made it known my dislike of keeping anything from anybody on this program before, but what point does it serve if the owners of those secrets can't come clean on their own time, for their own needs? You may not want the answer, but I'm going to tell you anyway. It serves _no point at all_.

"So, Secret Gays of Ohio, both you and your closets are safe again, for now. But let this not be taken as a sign that Sue Sylvester is in any way _weak_, or _compassionate_, or _caring_. I will find some other aspect of your life that I can, and _will_, hold against you. But for now, live a little! Go out to some gay bar and get a little action with the glory holes! Meet up for lesbian fornication in the dark! Return that phone call from Tom Cruise! Ohio, you have nothing to fear. Except for STDs and awkward dinner conversations with Katie Holmes.

"And _that_ is how Sue C's it."


End file.
